Celia
by calculatingcat726
Summary: This is about a girl who sister just died and how they celebrate Thanksgving together


1 Celia's Pie With A Touch of Daisy  
  
Daisy stepped outside into the late fall air. No shadows were cast about because the sun hid behind clouds. Her block was off a busy street near downtown. It was peaceful, and it suited Daisy just fine. A few trees dotted the sidewalk, the bright colors of their leaves making up for there being only a few of them. There seemed a feeling of coziness in the air, the houses illuminated and smelling of turkeys. One cheery house already had its Christmas lights glowing, sending waves of good feeling.  
  
It was four o'clock. The sky was gray and hazy, casting a sense of coming winter across the city. Twelve year-old Daisy scanned the street for arriving cars, and saw none. She stretched her arms and took a step back inside.  
  
"No," Daisy called, "no one's here yet."  
  
"Good, then you can make a pie," a voice answered.  
  
"Whaat?" Daisy answered in surprise as she hurried through the porch, down the hall and into the kitchen. "Isn't someone bringing it?"  
  
Her mother looked shocked. "Well, of course not dear," she replied as she put the biscuits in the oven.  
  
"But didn't Celia do it?"  
  
"Yes, she did. But you can do it too!"  
  
Daisy shuddered. "No, I won't do it," she answered.  
  
Her mother jumped. "Daisy, don't be so stubborn."  
  
Daisy turned away. "Nope."  
  
Her mother put down the dish she was washing and came over to negotiate with her daughter. "Come on. Be open-minded. It doesn't have to be like Celia's either," she pleaded.  
  
"I've never made a pie before," Daisy mumbled.  
  
"That's alright," said her mother. "It's the thought that counts."  
  
Daisy shook her head and replied, "No, it isn't the same."  
  
Her mother threw up her hands. "It's not my problem."  
  
Daisy looked startled. "What do you mean?"  
  
Her mother leaned forward. "Daisy, I'm holding you responsible for the pie. If you don't make it, than no one will," she whispered.  
  
Daisy frowned, and then her face lightened up. "O.K! I'll do it!" With that Daisy pranced up the stairs and disappeared from view. Her mother shook her head. "That girl can change her mind so fast," and went back to cleaning a dish.  
  
Meanwhile, Daisy put her head in her hands as she put her elbows on her desk. Her smooth, lengthy, straight golden-brown hair fell over her shoulders as she rubbed it between her fingers. It had been so hard for her when her sixteen year-old sister had died in the car crash the last year. Daisy still started crying unpredictably when she remembered her beloved sister Celia. It had been so shocking when the drunk driver hit Celia and her friend. Celia had died, but her friend wasn't even hurt! Life was so unjust. But Daisy told herself to stop complaining.  
  
Her thoughts wandered back to Thanksgiving. She didn't look forward to the event at all. She had to make a pie as well as Celia would have, and her totally business-oriented uncle who she despised was coming to discuss college funds with Daisy's parents. Her dad wanted to give Celia's money to Joey, Daisy's little brother. He was disabled, but that shouldn't mean he should get all the money. At least her mother thought that the money should be split evenly between the two. That's what Celia would want. But it would never happen. Daisy's uncle was her dad's brother, and he would do whatever his brother wanted to please him.  
  
Daisy sighed; she had a dream that would take a lot of money. She knew that it was one of those childish out-there thoughts like many others. Daisy picked herself up from her chair. You never know, Daisy reminded herself, especially on Thanksgiving, and on the day that your sister had died the year before.  
  
"Daisy, it's four thirty. Jean and Tim and their families are supposed to be here already, along with everybody else. We have to make the pie."  
  
"But isn't pie for dessert?"  
  
"It does truly take time to bake a pie."  
  
Daisy shrugged. "Where's the recipe?" her mother rolled her eyes.  
  
"Didn't Celia tell you?"  
  
"Uh-uh," Daisy shook her head.  
  
"Uh-oh. Celia always kept that recipe in a secret hiding place," her mother scratched her chin.  
  
"She definitely never told me."  
  
"You're sure? You're absolutely sure?"  
  
Daisy twisted her head in thought. "Actually… I think she might have!"  
  
"Then go get it!"  
  
"She never told you?"  
  
"No. Go on and get it. Stop wasting time." Daisy rushed upstairs and quickly brought  
  
it down. Her face was eager.  
  
"It's starting to rain, Mom."  
  
"That'll make it more cozy."  
  
"You're supposed to be disappointed."  
  
"You sound resentful."  
  
"That's because cousin Amanda and I can't play football," she complained.  
  
"That's good, I don't like that game." Daisy's face started to contort. Her mother held up her hands. "Even though it's in style. Anyways, the pie." Her daughter handed the recipe to her. She quickly read the directions.  
  
"Daisy, it has a large amount of cinnamon."  
  
Daisy looked over her mother's shoulder. "I always thought it was cinnamony."  
  
Her mother turned around. "That's not the point. The point is I'm not sure it's right." Daisy grabbed the recipe.  
  
"It has to be." The two exchanged looks.  
  
"All right." Daisy gathered the ingredients. "Why don't you put on an apron?"  
  
"Do cooks do that?" She cautiously asked.  
  
"Just do it." Daisy reluctantly went into the pantry and came back wearing an apron and looking professional. Her mother had all ready started mixing some ingredients when Daisy frowned.  
  
"I'm making it."  
  
Her mother stepped aside from the bowl of sugar. "It's all yours." Daisy took the spoon and added more ingredients. After a moment of silence, she spoke.  
  
"Did I just hear a car drive up?"  
  
"I'll go check," her mother replied. Daisy smiled. She felt like the Boss for once. Her mother rushed back.  
  
"They're here!"  
  
Daisy looked up. "But I'm not done."  
  
Daisy glanced up to see her cousins dribble in. She only saw her cousins at Thanksgiving. Daisy paused her stirring to let her arm rest as she studied the arriving guests. She noticed that her business-oriented uncle Bill had gained weight, but she remembered he liked to eat. His big, bald head shone as it caught the light. Her cousin Amanda walked over to her.  
  
"Whatcha doin'?"  
  
"Making the pumpkin pies." Daisy answered without looking up.  
  
"But……….. doesn't Celia do that?"  
  
Daisy was taken aback by the fact that Amanda didn't remember Celia's death. "Amanda, Celia's dead."  
  
Amanda gasped. "Oh, sorry."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"It's just that Celia's pies were so good and people will expect yours to be just as good." Daisy shrugged,  
  
"I'll try." Amanda patted Daisy on the back.  
  
"Is it in memory of Celia?"  
  
"I guess so." A baby squeaked. Daisy looked over to see Amanda staring across the room and looked there too. Amanda's mother was holding a newborn baby. Daisy looked at Amanda and then at the baby, then at Amanda again.  
  
"Little Jimmy!" Amanda cried. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she took the baby from her mother's arms. Amanda brought him over to Daisy. "Look, he's my new baby brother," she explained as she made Jimmy wave at Daisy. Daisy smiled.  
  
"Be careful, Amanda!" Amanda's mother warned. Her daughter rolled her eyes.  
  
"That's enough." Amanda reluctantly handed Jimmy over.  
  
"Hello Diane," Daisy greeted.  
  
"Hi, Daisy." Diane answered in a New York accent. Her frizzy hair and her black sunglasses that hid her green eyes were comical and she was remarkably skinny. Daisy smiled as she thought about what a funny pair Diane and Bill made. Fortunately, Amanda wasn't like either of them.  
  
After chatting and refreshments, Daisy put the pies in the oven and set the timer. She took off her apron and realized how she was tired.  
  
"Let's all sit down for dinner," her mother declared as her father arrived pushing his mother in a wheelchair. Daisy winked at her and sat down to eat with the rest of her relatives.  
  
She and Amanda didn't participate very much in the dinner conversation. Daisy was too busy dreading the business talk between her parents and Bill. Now and then, she would put in a word, enough to stay in the conversation. Every time a person was told Daisy was making the pies, they would raise their eyebrows with encouragement, but also with a silent yet knowing doubt that this ambitious new cook would make something actually edible.  
  
Suddenly, Daisy heard the alarm go off and she leapt up in alertness to get the pies out of the oven.  
  
Daisy opened the oven door carefully and peeked in to see that the pies were a warm brown. They were perfect. She took them out one by one and laid them on the table. She stuck a knife in one and tasted it. It tasted wonderful. Daisy leaned against the wainscoted wall as she waited for the pies to cool.  
  
"Why don't we all go into the living room for dessert?" She heard her mother suggest. Feet shuffled, the noise eventually dying away and the rain pattering against the roof and windows could be heard again.  
  
Daisy's mother appeared with dirty dishes. "Will you wash these dishes?" Daisy nodded and began to run hot water. Her mother kissed her and went into the dining room. Daisy noticed that her mother didn't go all the way into the living room and was having a talk with Bill and her father. She pressed her ear against the wall to listen to their conversation.  
  
"So what are we going to do about that money?" Her father asked. Daisy pressed her ear harder against the wall to hear the response.  
  
"Are you washing the dishes Daisy?" her mother cautiously asked.  
  
"Yes," Daisy answered. She heard their muffled voices rise and lower. She put down the dish she was washing to listen again.  
  
"I say it goes to Joey," she heard her father comment.  
  
"No, I say we split the money between Joey and Daisy," her mother contradicted. Daisy smiled. Good old mom, she thought.  
  
"But Rebecca, Joey needs the money. Think about how he's gonna be able to get a well-paying job when he grows up. What would Daisy do with it anyway?" There was a moment of uneasy silence.  
  
"That isn't fair. I won't agree."  
  
"Please? For Joey?" Her father pleaded. No comment.  
  
"Let's make a compromise," it was Bill this time.  
  
"Half and half?"  
  
"No. Joey gets three-quarters and Daisy gets one quarter."  
  
"No."  
  
"Come on Rebecca, be reasonable."  
  
Daisy slid down the wall to sit on the floor. She moved her finger along a grove in the floor. She couldn't bear to hear the rest. She knew that if she did that she would break into sobs. Holding back tears, Daisy went back to washing the dishes. After some more talking her mother came in, her eyes red from crying. Daisy looked away, avoiding her mother.  
  
"Are the pies ready?" Her mother asked. Daisy didn't really  
  
know, but she nodded anyway to prevent further discussion. "Well, aren't you going to stencil it in?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Celia stenciled Happy Thanksgiving in her pies. Aren't you going to?"  
  
"How?"  
  
"Daisy, come on. Think. With a knife." Her mother got a knife and showed Daisy how to do it. "Like this. Curl it, like when you're painting."  
  
Daisy had done everything except the final G. "Just one more letter," her mother reminded her. She started to curl the knife, but pressed too hard and made a hole.  
  
"Uh-oh."  
  
"That's all right. It'll be Celia's pie with a touch of Daisy," comforted her mother. "What's wrong?" Daisy had started to cry silently, and wiped her tears away with her sleeve. Her mother's eyes narrowed. "You heard what we said just a minute ago, didn't you?" Daisy nodded. To her surprise, her mother didn't get mad. "Well, don't pay attention to them, it'll be O.K. in the end.  
  
The two filed into the living room to serve dessert. Everybody was already sitting down with their plates in their hands, so Daisy just sliced the pie and handed the pieces out. They waited until every person had their pie to start eating. Her cousins all agreed that it was good, but she knew that Bill would be the real test She winced as the first piece of pie quivered on his spoon, coated with thick whipping cream. He sighed as the pie entered his mouth and closed his eyes.  
  
"It's, it's, it's..." Daisy bit her lip waiting for the end of the sentence to come.  
  
"...It's...very good." Daisy was disappointed that he hadn't said something like "It's truly divine," but she had to admit that he did compliment her. "Have you baked before?" He asked.  
  
"I, I, I haven't made a pie before." Murmur arose at Daisy's last reply.  
  
Diane walked by and patted Daisy. "He's right. It's quite good."  
  
Daisy was astonished. " Don't stare at me like that!" " But by the grin on Diane's face, Daisy knew her aunt was serious. Diane walked away, and Bill moved next to her, others squeezing in to hear the conversation.  
  
"Are you positive you haven't baked before?" He questioned. Daisy nodded. "Because." Bill whispered something to Amanda. Amanda mouthed, "Don't worry." Daisy sat back in relief. "Anyway," Bill turned around to face her. "It's better than Celia's," her finished. Daisy just stared. She didn't react when he asked her how she felt about what he had just said.  
  
She finally did when Amanda shook her. "Daisy, Daisy," Daisy jerked away from her. "Daisy? I know it's hard for you but, oh, just answer me!".  
  
"What?" Daisy replied as if nothing had happened. Amanda embraced her and Daisy struggled to resist.  
  
"What happened?" Amanda asked, searching Daisy's face for answers. Daisy's face remained unmoved.  
  
"I was just remembering Celia."  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"She used to wear turkey tights on Thanksgiving," Daisy answered, managing a weak smile. Amanda looked at Celia as if she was crazy.  
  
"Rrrright," Amanda returned to her seat walking backwards with big eyes.  
  
"So, what DO you think about your pie?" Bill asked. Daisy wished he would stop questioning her.  
  
"I, um, thought it was, um, good."  
  
"No, I mean what do you think about it being better than Celia's?"  
  
"Oh. I'm happy about that."  
  
"And don't think that I'm not being honest, because I used to be a cook. You know Celia had to go to cooking school to get as good as she did."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yep. That's the hard truth."  
  
"But wasn't my pie different?"  
  
"Well, yes, the hole in the G of course. That makes your pie uniquely different than Celia's." Daisy flinched at the name of her sister.  
  
"That hole didn't look good."  
  
Bill threw up his hands. "Look, if you don't want to accept it, then don't. I know it's hard for you." Daisy noticed that everyone was listening.  
  
"No, I do. It's just that, well, you know, this whole thing is pretty surprising."  
  
"Oh, now I understand." Daisy noticed that everyone was smiling at her at the moment. "Well, I'll tell you what I suggest." The remark was directed to her parents.  
  
"What?" Asked her parents in unison.  
  
"I suggest we send Daisy to cooking school." "We?" Daisy thought. "We? It would be her parent's decision, of course. Not old Uncle Bill's."  
  
This time her dad intervened. "But Bill, we don't have the money. Plus, if she is this good without going to cooking school, why should she go?"  
  
"He always favored Celia," she heard someone mutter.  
  
"Because I want to go," Daisy interrupted. This was outrageous! Celia could go to cooking school, but she couldn't? Joey needs the money for something and he gets it, but she doesn't if she needs it. Daisy remembered the conversation about the college funds; how she supposedly had nothing to use it for, well now she did!  
  
"Daisy, let's talk!" her mother scolded. Daisy shrank back into her seat.  
  
"My point is that if she's this good without going to cooking school, then imagine what she'll be when she does go to cooking school. Maybe she has a future in cooking." Bill continued.  
  
"He can come in handy," Daisy thought.  
  
"Bill, you still haven't mentioned the money involved. You know, we're just basing this all on pumpkin pie. I don't want to waste money on her if I don't have to." Her dad sure didn't get the point.  
  
Bill shrugged. "Do what you want. It's your daughter." "Well, it's your niece," Daisy thought. But she hated to see him give up, and he was arguing on her behalf. She had to do something.  
  
"You guys, don't you see? Use the money in Celia's college fund? Can't I split the money with Joey?" Daisy felt proud of herself. Now, everyone was staring at her. She had stood up to her father. She guessed that her relatives already knew about the rift that had been growing between her mother and father about the college funds. Daisy hoped that they supported her. "Well, why not Dad?" She knew he couldn't refuse her. He rubbed his shoulder.  
  
"I, I guess so." He answered meekly. Daisy beamed. She felt older, she wasn't just Daisy, the quiet little girl. She was Daisy, someone special. Everybody huddled around her and congratulated her. Even her dad came over.  
  
"So, when do I start?"  
  
"As soon as possible!" Her mom answered. Everyone laughed and Daisy and her mom hugged. Then, their relatives took the cue and started to leave. Taking their coats, joking and prodding each other, dribbling out the door, just as they had come.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Note  
  
Emily J. Alpert lives in Berkeley, California with her cat, sister and parents. She is eleven years old and hopes to write books for children when she grows up. Emily is in the sixth grade at Martin Luther King Middle School. She says, "Thank you Mrs. Mireles for taking me to the Oakland Museum on a fieldtrip to see the Day Of The Dead altars, one of which inspired this story." 


End file.
